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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29809227">Kindred-Bound</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nosferatank/pseuds/Nosferatank'>Nosferatank</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Beingverse [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Hat in Time (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alpine Goat sages know more about the natural universe than you think, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But hey he’s had some character development and it shows, Family Reunions and Other Extreme Sports, Gen, No shipping, POV Original Character, Snatcher scaring the piss out of people for fun but no profit, Snatcher's family baggage, Worldbuilding, and other things visible from orbit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:55:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,056</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29809227</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nosferatank/pseuds/Nosferatank</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"But beneath the surface-smoke level of banter, Hattie <em>wondered</em>. About the Tempus council, and if they noticed the blip in the radar as she fixed Earth. About Time, and why it left Mu alive, touched her, even after she trespassed. About a long-dead Subconite woman and her descendants."</p><p>--</p><p>Hat Kid takes it upon herself to find Prince Luka's distant and long-estranged relatives.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hat Kid &amp; Original Characters, Hat Kid &amp; Snatcher (A Hat in Time), Snatcher (A Hat In Time) &amp; Original Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Beingverse [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Me @ Brigid ever since her name was mentioned in the early chapters of Soul-Stricken: Honey you got a big storm comin’</p><p>Tagging this as Canon Character &amp; Original Character is always weird, but hopefully it feels organic enough. </p><p>Anyways, as usual, this probably won't make a ton of sense if you haven't seen the series before, so I reccommend at least reading Soul-Stricken and Thrice-Cursed first.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“I carved the funerary plaques for Mother and Father. And for Luka; I’m long past certain they didn’t make it. It’s been nearly a year, now, and not a single soul has made its way from Subcon to here. The least I can do is give him the proper death-blessings, even with no body to bury or mantle to wrap around the tablet. <strike>I feel like this is my fault, if I had taken him with</strike></em>
</p><p>
  <em>I remade the Pryce clan records. It’s just myself, Griff, Theodora, Cassius, and the little one (who is taking their sweet time coming out!) left. Thank the spirits Theo has picked up embroidery better than I ever had- at least my grandchildren’s mantles won’t be as lopsided as my children’s!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-Diary of Apolonia Larsen, Clan Pryce</em>
</p><p>--</p><p>Professor Brigid Larsen eyed the junior currently fidgeting in his seat- which was almost impressive, with how tall some of the larger Capra could get. Through the coarse fringe, his eyes remained unblinking, but undeniably nervous.</p><p>She sighed. “I’ll give you some extra credit. <em>This</em> time.” He looked hopeful at that. Enough that Brigid almost felt bad about her next words. “Two-page essay on the methods General Cassandre Orfeo Yul Morcant Walker employed during the Subcon Annexation War to counter the Subconite guerilla tactics.” As the young goat nodded, resigned, Brigid added “And no, you don’t need to write out his full name every time.” She wasn't <em>that</em> mean.</p><p>He visibly sagged in relief. “Thanks, professor,” he said, waving to her as he hopped off his seat and left, closing the door behind him.</p><p>Brigid idly flitted around her open tabs, pestering her partner over email about when she’d be returning home, reading an offensively inaccurate article about Omnoc’s rapid growth and expansion five-hundred years ago- and leaving a scathing comment because that was called <em>imperialism</em>, Richard- and then checking her email <em>again</em> when a knock startled her.</p><p>Office hours weren’t over yet, but whoever this was, they were calling it close.</p><p>The door opened, and Brigid had to look down to see her visitor. Who couldn’t be any older than twelve.</p><p>“Um,” Brigid said, with all the intelligence befitting her level of education.</p><p>“Is this Doctor Larsen’s office?” The kid in question asked, politely ignoring Brigid’s confusion.</p><p>“I- yes. How may I help you?”</p><p>The child took that as an invitation, hopping onto the chair and looking comically small compared to its previous goat occupant. “Sorry, this might come of as a bit out-of-nowhere, but I came because I recognized your name.” She fidgeted with the hem of her cloak- a Subconite one, yellow with red stitching in <em>very</em> familiar patterns. “Does the name Pryce mean anything to you?”</p><p>That, alongside the fire-thorns winding around the girl's cloak, led Brigid to the most logical conclusion. A relative, then. A very, very distant one, if they’d never crossed paths before, and if she wasn’t wearing a sash or bells like most Fairview humans, or like the Capra that lived this far down. Brigid’s own mantle, sewn by her grandmother, had the same thread-maze patterns, in blue and green instead of yellow and red. “Yes, that’s my family’s clan name, though our actual legal last names, of course, vary between groups.”</p><p>The child brightened, her smile baring conspicuously sharp fangs. “So I’m at the right place! I heard pretty much everyone else lived in Fairview, and I wanted to see if someone would meet us?”</p><p><em>Us</em>? “Wait, where-” <em>One question at a time</em>. “Who else is there? I don’t recognize you, but the last family reunion was a long time ago…”</p><p>The kid sobered, seemingly mulling over her answer. “It’s just me and my brother, really. His friend is there, too, but she’s not from our clan.”</p><p>“That’s it?” Brigid frowned. <em>No parents? Was nobody else in the clan around to shelter a pair of children?</em> “Where is your brother, if you came all the way here on a… family visit?”</p><p>“He’s, eh, back at home. Maybe we can meet there? He hasn’t seen anyone else from Pryce in a long time and he’s uh, shy. Yeah.” The kid scratched at the back of her neck, somewhat nervously.</p><p>“Shy enough to send a child to meet with a stranger?” Brigid questioned, brow raised.</p><p>“He kinda doesn’t know I’m here?” The kid said sheepishly, which wasn’t a concern at <em>all</em>. “I was thinking maybe someone could come back with me and we could talk about this kinda stuff?” She frowned, thoughtful. “I’m not sure if he’s even on the records- I know I’m not.”</p><p><em>Definitely</em> concerning. “That’s… probably something that should be corrected,” Brigid admitted. “But I don’t keep the clan records- there’s several people who do, but that’s not something I have access to.”</p><p>“... Oh.” Anxious fidgeting, and an aborted shuffle towards the door, which Brigid did her best to ignore. And failed.</p><p><em>Oh, damn it</em>. “If you’re so dead-set on this, I can take you and your brother to the current Clan Head. They’re actually qualified for this stuff.” <em>And maybe get you set up with actual guardians instead of living alone who-knows-where</em>. “Where is he, then?”</p><p>“Oh, we’re in Subcon Forest,” the child said casually.</p><p>“Okay, funny. Now where are you <em>really</em> living.”</p><p>“It’s true! Yeah, most people can’t get in and out, but I can-”</p><p>Brigid half-rose from her chair, unable to help her irritation despite the fact that this was a child. “Look, I don’t know who you’ve been palling around with that convinced you that this is an acceptable prank, but there’s a difference between a dangerous prank and what I’d consider to be a <em>murder attempt!</em>” Visibly calming herself, Brigid exhaled, sparks of fire magic carried out with her breath. “Look, I’m still willing to help you and your brother get in touch with the rest of the Pryce clan, but you can’t mess around with me like that. It’s <em>rude</em>.”</p><p>The child bared her teeth at Brigid like a wild bushcat. “I’m not lying, though!”</p><p>“If you want to make a serious request on behalf of your family, you can come back later. In the meantime-” Brigid pointed to the door. “-Office hours are over.”</p><p>Mutinously, the girl stomped her way out of Brigid’s office, throwing a glare over her shoulder as she went.</p><p>As the door closed, Brigid sighed. Ugh. <em>Kids</em>.</p><p>--</p><p>By the time Brigid arrived back at the house she shared with her girlfriend (who was out of town) and her younger brother (who Brigid categorized as a part-time novelist, part-time layabout), it was dark enough that the filter flowers were fully open, their shadowy scent sharp enough to wake Brigid up a bit.</p><p>As she unlocked the door, she heard voices murmuring from further inside. Probably one of her brother’s friends- Luka was always more socially active at odd hours. Brigid shed her cloak and hung it next to Luka’s white and purple mantle, wandering back to the kitchen to see-</p><p>“You!” Brigid exclaimed, jabbing a finger at the hatted girl that somehow <em>found where she lived</em>.</p><p>Luka’s flat look was scathing, roughly translating to ‘<em>Brigid, you are thirty-five years old, why are you so threatened by a preteen</em>’. “Hello to you, too,” he drawled.</p><p>“Not you.” Brigid waved him off, and gestured back to the deviously-innocent girl on a stool and eating a cookie. “<em>You</em>. Why are you in my house.”</p><p>“Because you kicked her out of your office?” Luka shot back, appalled. “Really, Brigid, a clan member looking for help-”</p><p>Feeling guilty, Brigid still held her brother’s accusing gaze. “She was <em>very</em> serious about taking me to see her brother- in <em>Subcon Forest</em>.”</p><p>Slowly, Luka turned back to the child on the kitchen stool, who ducked her head. “You… neglected to mention that, Miss Pryce,” he admonished- he always tacked on the more formal addresses when he scolded people.</p><p>“I told her she’d be fine!” Hat Girl shot back. “If you came with me to get him, you wouldn’t be in any danger!”</p><p>Gearing up to ask the spirits-damned stubborn child <em>exactly</em> how stupid she thought she was, Brigid froze. Exhaled slowly, steam trailing from her mouth as she put the pieces together. Going to get her brother in Olde Subcon? No parents around? It didn’t weave a pleasant banner, not at all.</p><p>“Look, kid,” Brigid said softly, wishing it was anyone but her who had to tell the girl this. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you. But we can’t go with you to get your brother and take him back.” She focused on keeping her voice steady, reassuring. “If your brother went into Subcon… I’m sorry, but nobody’s ever come out alive.”</p><p>“What? You think he’s, that-” Hat Child sputtered. “Why would I want you guys to meet a dead dude? That makes no sense!”</p><p>“I’m sorry, but Brigid is right,” Luka cut in apologetically. “If he went into Subcon Forest, he’s dead by now.”</p><p>Yeesh, for all that he was softer spoken, Luka was terrible at cushioning the blow. “There… might be a chance he’s alive.” <em>A curse’s chance in the filter-flower garden, maybe.</em> “But it would be irresponsible to let you go in after him.”</p><p>Stubborn silence, as the child fumed at her. Anger was… not the expected response to the news of her brother’s likely death, but still. Brigid had to make up for overreacting in her office <em>somehow</em>. “We have a spare room you can sleep in, and Luka can take you to one of the clan heads to get sorted.” At the child’s scowl, Brigid added. “At least promise me you won’t go haring off into Subcon, okay?”</p><p>“... Fine,” the child ground out. “But I’m going home after this.”</p><p>“Now, hold on, I can’t just let a kid go back to living alone-”</p><p>“I don’t live alone. I have a guardian,” Hat Child interrupted, hopping off her stool and brushing the crumbs from her tunic forlornly. “I just thought- never mind.” A sigh. “I’ll spend the night. Where’s the room?”</p><p>Mutely, Brigid pointed to the spare bedroom.</p><p>As soon as the door clicked closed, she wordlessly slumped onto the kitchen stool. “Ugh. She didn’t believe a word about her brother being dead, did she?”</p><p>“Absolutely not,” Luka agreed. “I just hope Nana is in a decent mood.”</p><p>“Gotta admit, glad it’s you taking her up and not me. I’m not even close to being the Clan Head’s heir, but she still feels the need to pester me about my embroidery like I’m still in school,” Brigid grumbled, stealing a cookie from the jar on the countertop and taking a bite out of it. “Huh, these taste kinda funny. What did you put in them?”</p><p>“Just a new Cooking Cat recipe that was on TV. It’s vegan- and something about being made for aliens? I didn’t pay much attention. Maybe it was a joke episode.”</p><p>“... Huh.”</p><p>--</p><p>Hattie strode into Snatcher’s tree, the picture of confidence, cape flapping behind her. With all the surety of a great warrior, she stalked to her sword-brother’s chair, bunching her muscles and preparing to <em>move-</em></p><p>And flopped onto the ottoman. She didn’t shout into the musty cushion, but she did growl into it- sadly not very intimidating, coming from a thirteen-year-old Tempean.</p><p>Pecking grown-ups jumping to their own conclusions and thinking she was lying and didn’t know what she was talking about and she could take care of <em>herself</em>, damn it-!</p><p>“You done yet?” Snatcher asked casually from where he slumped in his chair, pointedly turning a page.</p><p>Voice muffled by the ottoman, Hattie retorted “No, shut up,” but ceased her snarling imprecations anyways.</p><p>The Pryce Clan Head at Fairview had been- well, she’d been nice, in that overbearing grandma way. She didn’t probe too much on Hattie’s past after she admitted that she was adopted into the clan by her brother, and that he hadn’t been on fantastic terms with his parents the last time they’d seen each other.</p><p>The old lady couldn’t doubt Hattie, though, not with the mantle stitched so traditionally it was a wonder it wasn’t from the oldest archives- like the cloaks that wrapped the funeral plaques of their wearers, way on the bottom of the stacks upon stacks of them.</p><p>So she was legally a member of Pryce, now. Which was weird to think about- she was an alien, and also legally a bird? Though DJ Grooves might have fudged something on her bird passport to get it pushed through so fast, so who knew…</p><p>“So, what’s got your cape in a twist this time, and how is it not my problem?” Snatcher asked casually.</p><p>Hattie propped her chin up on the cushion mulishly. “Your obnoxious relatives.”</p><p>“<em>Definitely</em> your own problem, then.” He froze, mid-page-turn, eyes brightening. “Wait, <em>who</em>?!” he squawked, slamming the book closed.</p><p>Hattie sprang to her feet, the sudden tension in the tree palpable as the static before a thunderstorm. “I went to go see if any of Apolonia’s descendants would meet us here,” she said brazenly. “They wouldn’t though.”</p><p>“I should <em>hope</em> not!” Snatcher reeled back, offended. “I don’t want a bunch of- of- unarmed, unblooded <em>humans</em> stomping around <em>my</em> forest!” The ‘<em>unless I plan to eat them</em>’ went unsaid.</p><p>“What, even your own family?” Hattie pounced. “Not even gonna <em>try</em>?”</p><p>Snatcher hissed, low and warning, and said “Those people are nothing to me! And they will <em>remain</em> that way!”</p><p>“You have no reason not to try!” Like seed-lightning.</p><p>“It’s more trouble than it’s worth! Humans <em>always</em> are!” Like the echo of thunder as the storm grew angry.</p><p>“More trouble than it’s worth? Or are you too much of a <em>coward</em>!?” Hattie hooked her clawless hands at her sides in response, glaring up at him and baring her teeth in frustration at the much larger creature. “Selfish! My family thinks I’m <em>dead</em>, and you won’t even talk to yours that are on the same <em>planet</em>!”</p><p>Snatcher’s claws dug tears into the arms of his chair, vindictive and sharp as daggers. “And that’s my decision! Same as it was yours to <em>never</em> go back!”</p><p>Hattie recoiled, desperately wishing she had something heavy in her hands. So she could <em>throw it</em> at him. “I didn’t have a <em>choice</em>! There’s literally nothing stopping you! You’re just still mad at Apolonia for-”</p><p>A night-dark blur-</p><p>Dangling in the air by her cloak like a scruffed bushcat, Hattie returned Snatcher’s irritated hiss with her own, less intimidating one.</p><p>“I am the head of this clan, and lord of Subcon by birthright,” Snatcher spat, feathers shivering and giving away his anger despite the overly-formal titling. “I shouldn’t have to deal with a puling whelp who has no <em>idea</em> what she’s talking about!”</p><p>Hattie looked him dead in the eye, and sketched out one of the most insulting gestures known on Tempus.</p><p>The air heated, smoke trailing from Snatcher’s eyes and mouth. Incrementally slow, he lowered Hattie until she was no longer eye-level with him-</p><p>And chucked her into the pond surrounding the heart-tree.</p><p>Sputtering and seething like the acidic gas-pockets of Subcon Swamp, Hattie squelched her way to the shore, mindless of how her soaked mantle slapped against her legs. A Subconite napping from a rope blinked at her blearily as she passed underneath it.</p><p>Once she was at the fenceline, she whirled around and screwed up her face.</p><p>“Peck you!”</p><p>Satisfied at getting in the last word, but hollow all the same, Hattle warped back to the ship. She needed to scream into a pillow, and maybe hit something. <em>Hard</em>.</p><p>--</p><p>Wind and crackling fire and the rustling of the canopy like waves off the shore; staticky whispers of cell-to-cell communication, in the forest that held just as much of Snatcher’s memories as he himself did.</p><p>
  <em>Are you really going to let your sister run off without making amends with each other? Again?</em>
</p><p>Damn it.</p><p>--</p><p>The <em>shuff</em> of feathers on carpet- a sound not heard in the ship for days. All else was silent but for the clicking of computer keys in the library, as the owls had since gone home after their music practice and the old Mafia Boss had been toted back down to Earth in Cookie’s paws.</p><p>“... I’m sorry for yelling.” Silence, spinning slowly like the Earth outside the viewport. “And for throwing you into the water.”</p><p>“I… shouldn’t have brought Apolonia into it.”</p><p>A soft snort- of course she’d been able to put together his feelings on the matter, they’d shared a <em>brain</em> for a while. “You were right though. I did kind of want to get back at her for leaving.” <em>And it didn’t make me feel any better about it, either. Hindsight is cruel</em>.</p><p>“So, let’s make a deal.” The void of his feathers seemed to suck in the light from the computer monitor as he slithered closer, neck arced low. “Go ahead and pester our extended family to your heart’s content, just keep them <em>out</em> of Subcon, and <em>don’t</em> talk about who I am.”</p><p>“It’s not like you could stop me if I decided to tell them.”</p><p>“Oh, sure, and it sounded like you were <em>so</em> successful getting them to visit such a <em>prime vacation spot</em>.”</p><p>“... It’s a deal if you also never mention that again.”</p><p>“<em>Deal</em>.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There’s definitely some disconnect between Snatcher, Camellia, and to an extent Hattie vs. the rest of the Subconite remnants. That’s because they’ve got 300 years and a mountain range of separation. Culture changes over time, and the reason Subcon Forest hasn’t is because nobody has had kids or died or been influenced much by other people; Snatcher’s disparagement of them as ‘unblooded’ is one illustration of this change- clan infighting wasn’t exactly a thing following the migration to Fairview, so the more martial aspects of Subcon culture mostly died out. </p><p>Hattie, absolutely thrilled at finding one of Apolonia’s descendants, has no idea that she could have talked to any given person in Fairview’s Subcon remnant population and there’s a 15% chance they’re Clan Pryce. They aren’t the largest of the remaining clans, but they’re definitely not an insignificant size.</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://banyanas.tumblr.com/tagged/get-along-hat">tumblr</a><br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not gonna lie, I’m not feeling the usual descriptions on this one. Hopefully the prose-machine will turn back on soon, but in the meantime at least it’s done. Either way, Snatcher redirecting some of his predatory instinct into just scaring people and puffing up and being the strongest thing in the room is… an improvement, technically. Very technically. Don’t forget that he’s not human, and moreover? He’s not /tame/.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“Names have power- I know this well, as clan-ties may bind people together closer than blood. It seems the Capra here also know the power that names hold, but they seem more concerned with the higher powers. Knowledge of what moves the earth and the heavens is something the highest goat sages dedicate their lives to, but even they are hesitant to use more than titles for these forces. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Capra use constellations as a name-script for these forces and beings, believing that saying them or writing their names aloud will draw unwanted attention. There are stitched constellations that serve as ‘names’ for Death, and Time, and the Moon, and a myriad of other higher powers, including their own Twilight Goat and Bell. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>There is also one for Subcon Forest. It almost looks like fire, or perhaps a tree.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I am not sure how to think of this. We never even called it by a name- it was always just ‘the forest’. Did it always have one?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-Diary of Apolonia Larsen, Clan Pryce. </em>
</p><p>--</p><p>Brigid blinked in the lull as students took notes from the lecture. Squinted, and tilted her head.</p><p>Why was there a <em>child</em> in her sparsely-populated lecture hall? An <em>actual</em> child, not a freshman that bit off more than they could chew.</p><p>And Brigid knew who that child was- even sitting behind one of the larger Capra students in the back couldn’t fully hide the hat as she peeked around their fluffy bulk to look at the front of the classroom. First, from her rather frustrating visit with the child in her office, and subsequently at her home.</p><p>Second, from the rumors caught between her coworkers’ conversations; a human girl sitting in on their lectures, appearing and vanishing before any of them could talk to her.</p><p>Some of them were convinced the university was haunted now. Brigid knew better.</p><p>Raising her voice over the cacophony of bags buckling up and chairs screeching on stone tile, Brigid called out “Remember your projects are due in three weeks! Don’t let it sneak up to you!” Red-stitched yellow flickered in the corner of her vision like a flame, and Brigid continued with “Harriet Pryce? You stay behind, we need to chat.”</p><p>There was no chorus of “<em>Ooooh, busted,</em>” despite the fact that the lagging students clearly wanted to voice their opinion on the matter. Harriet froze, sheepishly looking over her shoulder.</p><p>Harriet trudged over like a scolded cat, and Brigid sighed. “You know, I don’t actually mind you sitting in on a few classes, so long as you don't do anything disruptive,” she said. “Though you should know some of the more superstitious faculty members are convinced the classrooms are haunted now.” Poor Galle had even started stress-molting her feathers over it, convinced that the scowly child in the corner of her calculus classes was out for her blood.</p><p>“I just wanted to see what kind of stuff there was,” Harriet said casually, now that she was sure she wasn’t in trouble. Shrugged. “All the physics and math classes were <em>super</em> boring though.”</p><p>Brigid snorted. “I didn’t exactly like math when I was your age either.”</p><p>“What? No, I mean it’s all wrong!” She crossed her arms stubbornly, scowl crawling across her face. “They didn’t even know much about time dilation! Shouldn’t it be common sense with the Twilight Bell right next door?”</p><p>“Uh,” Brigid stalled, trying to untangle that sentence. Every conversation with this kid threw a curveball right at Brigid’s face. “That’s- for stuff about the Bell you’d have to ask a Twilight Steward on top of the mountains. Maybe they know about… whatever time dilation is.”</p><p>“See! This is what I mean!” Harriet gesticulated wildly, hands fluttering in an attempt to keep up with her thoughts. “At least my brother had an excuse- he was basically living under a rock! But I still don’t understand how societies who have so much natural magic don’t know this stuff. Even the <em>Dras</em> had space travel before they learned to harness other types of magic!”</p><p><em>About half of that made any sense. But-</em> “I’m sorry, <em>space</em> travel?”</p><p>“Uh, <em>duh</em>?”</p><p>“How would you even get up there?”</p><p>Harriet paused, thinking. “Most primitive species used explosions at first, actually.”</p><p>“<em>Explosions</em>.”</p><p>“I got here the smart way, of course. Wormholes are <em>way</em> safer. And faster.”</p><p>“Space travel… isn’t possible right now,” Brigid said slowly. “I’m not sure if Luka has been talking about his novel too much to you, but space travel isn’t something that exists.”</p><p>Harriet looked at her like she was a few stitches short of a pattern. And then doubled over, snorting and giggling. “Oh, spirits, you thought I was <em>human</em>?” she snickered, finally straightening and baring a fanged smile. “Man, even the Mafia goons knew I wasn’t one!”</p><p><em>Not human. What on earth?</em> “Weirdest bird <em>I’ve</em> ever seen,” Brigid stalled, rapidly re-evaluating her thoughts on the kid’s mental stability.</p><p>A flat stare. “You don’t believe me, do you.”</p><p>“Absolutely not,” Brigid blurted out.</p><p>“... I can show you my spaceship?”</p><p>“If you say your spaceship is in Subcon Forest, I’m kicking you out of all my classes,” Brigid said dryly.</p><p>“Hmph! As if you could keep me out in the first place!” Harriet crossed her arms, imperious as any young lordling with a head full of cotton-stuffed ideals. “I can take you there right now, actually!”</p><p>“Eh, sure, so long as it doesn’t take too long.” <em>I could use a quick break from staring at papers anyways</em>.</p><p>“Cool, this won’t take long at all!” The kid grabbed at her hand, and-</p><p>Light flared from behind Brigid’s eyes, like the shower of sparks and steam from a blacksmith’s forge-</p><p>Her vision returned to her, revealing-</p><p>Space. Stars cradled in void-stained emptiness, Earth floating peacefully in its midst like the planetarium at the university, made real. Way, <em>way</em> too real.</p><p>“... Ah. Space,” Brigid managed. She didn’t manage much else, besides her anxiety rising from her chest like lava and heating her hands to the point that sparks snapped from her frozen fists.</p><p>“Yup! Just in orbit though, so- <em>whoa</em>, okay, you don’t look so good.”</p><p><em>You think?</em> Brigid thought, hysterically, before she managed to force words through her teeth. “How- can I get back?”</p><p>“Seriously? It’s just a quick jump planetside, just using one of the telescopes. Easy.” Under her breath, Harriet muttered something that Brigid only caught the eddies of, as her foaming panic receded. “<em>Can’t believe- her descendants- weenies.”</em></p><p>“Sure. Just a quick jump. No biggie,” Brigid wheezed, sitting down at the convenient chair right by the console. It was too short for her. And her knees banged against it but she couldn’t register that, because Earth was floating like a child’s toy in deep-water and the array of blinking levers and buttons stole her attention and were those in a different <em>language</em>?</p><p>“So do you need a paper bag or something, or…” Harriet trailed off, interrupting Brigid’s minor breakdown about aliens being real. “I saw an owl do it in one of Conductor’s movies!”</p><p>“No, no paper bags,” Brigid managed, mind racing to the other, worse conclusion like a particularly spastic rabbit. “Please tell me this isn't the beginning of an invasion.”</p><p>“Of course not, duh.” And it was <em>embarrassing</em> to be condescended at by a thirteen-year-old, interstellar origins be damned. “I kinda, uh. Got stranded here. I wasn’t lying about my brother adopting me into the clan, y’know.”</p><p>“I mean, you might’ve left out that part,” Brigid said on autopilot, tensing her muscles like iron and squeezing out an old pattern with her fists. She hadn’t needed to tamp down an attack this bad in <em>years</em>, but the old routines came back easy as breathing.</p><p>Harriet leaned around the console chair, concerned. “Okay, yeah, humans are <em>not</em> supposed to turn that color. Do you want some, I dunno, tea? Something?”</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>--</p><p>Hattie scrutinized the woman across from her as Brigid stared into her half-empty mug like it held the secrets of the universe, blonde hair half-out of its braid and dark eyes distant. With a puff of steam, she reheated her chilled tea; subtle fire magic, without even a flame to show for it.</p><p>Hattie had to admit, she hadn’t expected one of Apolonia’s descendants to be so, well, <em>normal</em>. Almost boring- Clan Pryce had <em>fire</em> in their blood, literally <em>and</em> metaphorically. Professor Larsen seemed to have the literal fire, but nothing Hattie could see of the inner blaze that drove a Margravine to plan succession under Omnoc’s very nose even if it damned her son, or an heiress to defy all tradition and forge her path elsewhere, or a once-prince to deny Death despite the impossibility of it.</p><p>Compared to both the great warriors of the Pryce line and the rigid, eternally-expanding empire of Hattie’s home, Brigid was <em>tame</em>- a candle, compared to a bonfire.</p><p>Hattie… didn’t really know how to handle tame things anymore.</p><p>“I appreciate the tea,” Brigid suddenly said. “And the honesty. But I would really like to go home now.”</p><p>Hattie frowned. “Are you sure? I mean, I could show you how the observatory works, or bring back some books for Luka from the library-”</p><p>“Please,” Brigid interrupted. “I can’t- I appreciate that you aren’t here to invade, and you’re welcome to reach out to the rest of the clan whenever you want, but I’m not <em>meant</em> to be up here.” She shivered, like a lamp-flame in winter. “I can’t feel the heat from the world and it’s <em>really</em> uncomfortable.”</p><p>… Oh. That would explain some things- the distance between the earth and its molten core was smaller than that between the earth’s surface and her ship. It would be like taking an ocean-mage and sticking them in a desert, or a wind-mage under the sea.</p><p>And now she felt kinda bad for dragging Brigid up here. <em>Great</em>. “The engine room teleporter is aimed a bit too high to reach Fairview- I can send you home with the bedroom one,” Hattie said, hopping out of her chair and beckoning for the woman to follow.</p><p>Periodically looking over her shoulder to make sure Brigid was still following her, Hattie didn’t see the other occupant of the room until it was too late.</p><p>Hattie whispered “Shit.”</p><p>Snatcher looked up from his book on Tempean spacefaring law, and for the briefest of moments he simply stared. His face even held a readable expression- startled and a bit confused.</p><p>The book dropped into the pillow-pile as Snatcher flexed his claws, expression disappearing into a single blank-glowing yellow void and snarling like the hum of thunder and snapping flames. “You <em>brought one</em> here?!”</p><p>“I didn’t know you were here! And it’s <em>my</em> ship anyways, so-” Hattie cut herself off as the unmistakable sound of fire flaring to life interrupted her-</p><p>But the fire was coming from <em>behind</em> her.</p><p>Backed into the wall with fire-magic licking up her hands, Brigid pointed at Snatcher, eyes wide. “What- who-” she stammered, words escaping her in the face of a very irritated Snatcher.</p><p>… Who would look incandescently angry, to anyone unfamiliar with him. His feathers were puffed up a bit and his claws were out and okay, he was maybe lacking a face at the moment, but he wasn’t snapping his teeth or flaring his ear-tufts or arching his neck. He was just irritated, not <em>murderous</em>.</p><p>“Who I am doesn’t matter! What is one of them <em>doing</em> here?” Snatcher demanded, blessedly unmoved from his perch in the corner.</p><p>“Of course it matters!” Hattie shot back, frustrated. “They’re your clan! Your sister’s blood!”</p><p>“You- he-” and now both of them were turning to stare at the human among them, whose voice guttered just as much as her fire magic. “If he’s- then you-” A sharp gesture towards Snatcher, trailing blue-green sparks. “Is <em>that</em> your brother!?”</p><p>… Oops. Brigid wasn’t supposed to catch on <em>that</em> quick, if at all. “Uh,” Hattie stalled, ignoring Snatcher as he groaned into his hands in exasperation. Dramatic jerk.</p><p>“Right, um.” Hattie gestured from Brigid to Snatcher, whose claws fell away from his face to reveal, well, an actual face- two eyes and a mouth and all. “Snatcher, this is Brigid Larsen, clan Pryce.” A sweeping gesture from Snatcher to Brigid, fully facing the dumbfounded woman. “Brigid, this is my adopted brother, who I <em>thought</em> was the Pryce Clan Head but there seems to be multiple clan heads for Pryce now, which is weird…”</p><p>“Slow- slow down, kid, please.” Like a wolf-stalked rabbit, Brigid kept her eyes on Snatcher, but the flames she held vanished in a swirl of smoke. “Um. Lord Pryce? How- I mean, the clan heads have always been in my family line, so how…”</p><p>Silence, but for rapid breaths from the human and the faint growl-hum from Snatcher that Hattie was reasonably sure Brigid wasn’t even capable of hearing. “I don’t owe that explanation to you.”</p><p>A questioning tone escaped Brigid, who was obviously curious despite her fear, but she quailed when the Being before her fixed her with a sun-bright glare. “I’ll- I’m gonna-”</p><p>She fled, almost running into the port-frame on her way out.</p><p>Hattie stomped over to the ramp, glaring up at Snatcher. “Nice going, Snatcher. You didn’t need to be such a jerk!”</p><p>His eyes flared in a pattern that resembled rolling eyes. “Oh, <em>please</em>, I know it was an accident, but if Larsen thought I was rude, she can take it up with HR.”</p><p>“You scared her!”</p><p>“So? She’s human. She <em>should</em> be scared.”</p><p>“So was I,” Hattie grumbled, arms crossed.</p><p>Snatcher turned fully to face her, arms twitching like he wanted to do something. “... That’s different,” he said weakly. Slowly circled his arms behind her, nudging her close. “You- we actually know each other. We <em>chose</em> to be family.”</p><p>Hattie sank into the feathers at his side obligingly, ignoring how they tickled her nose- she had long gotten used to it. She’d never breathe the thought out loud, but Snatcher was a far more tactile person than he liked to think- which suited her just fine, as someone equally touchy. “It’s just… the minions are fun, and Camellia is really cool, but they’re not- it gets lonely, with just us,” Hattie finally said. “Clans aren’t meant to be just two people, and you know that.”</p><p>“I’ve been having lots of fun meeting all of them, too,” Hattie went on. “I mean, not all at once, because that’s a <em>lot</em> of people, but… y’know.” She shrugged.</p><p>“... You think I should try, too.”</p><p>“Took you long enough to figure it out.”</p><p>“... Fine. But if she’s a coward about it, it’s not my problem.”</p><p>--</p><p>Coiled on the floor, staring into the kitchen doors where his generations-removed niece fled, Snatcher was absolutely <em>not</em> stalling. It was just beneath him to apologize to Larsen for her own cowardice, being as unblooded and soft as an Omnecian noncombatant- and wasn’t that an odd concept, even all these centuries later? People who just… didn’t learn to fight, and weren’t expected to. What had his family line come to, that so few wielded blades of their own? That were defenseless?</p><p>‘<em>You scared her,</em>’ echoed through his memories, and he shook it off. He didn’t see a problem with scaring her, really- Larsen was tiny, and mortal, and if he couldn’t indulge in the instinct to <em>chase-stalk-bite</em> as she ran out of the kid’s room, at the very least he could enjoy the vindictive pleasure of presenting as the strongest being (or, well, Being) in the room.</p><p>… But Snatcher himself used to be tiny, and mortal, and he remembered all too well the utter flash-fire terror of being a prey animal, even if just from the depths of Hattie’s hindbrain as Snatcher’s alien-possessed body did its best to kill them. There was a reason he didn’t bother ‘playing’ with his food anymore, forgoing the contracts and the prolonged fear and skipping straight to the quick death between his jaws.</p><p>It was in his nature to scare that which was weaker and smaller and more edible than him. He also remembered what it was like to <em>be</em> scared. It <em>sucked</em>. So did apologizing, but here he was, doing it anyways.</p><p>Like strangle-vine, Snatcher crept up over the wall and railing and nudged the doors open with his face- it was the only thing that would fit. Ignoring Larsen’s startled squeak as she nearly dropped the glass she was holding, he said, flatly, “I’m sorry you got scared.”</p><p>“Uh,” Brigid said from her seat, gripping the table and back of the chair and half-out of it, ready to run. “... Thanks?”</p><p>Snatcher stared, looking for something that wasn’t there. Larsen looked <em>nothing</em> like Apolonia, or him, or their parents, or even like Cato. There was only the soft flex of fire in her core that marked her as a fire-mage, and the blue-green cloak around her shoulders that held patterns that were so close to the ones on his own, but which crawled oddly across the hem of her cloak- foreign and yet familiar, compared to the blocky mazes stitched onto Snatcher’s and Hattie’s mantles.</p><p>Best get this over with, then. “Right, I can… explain. My younger sister sought the remains of our clan out in Alpine Skyline, but I had no intention of meeting any of you.” He cocked his head, fluffing out his feathers. “I trust you will keep quiet about this.” Narrowed gold eyes. But perhaps not threatening enough. “If you cross a line, you will <em>regret it</em>.”</p><p>Larsen gulped, holding a shaky thumbs-up. “That sounds… super. Can you maybe, uh. Move?”</p><p>Ah. He was blocking the entrance. Fair enough. As Snatcher pulled his head out and the double-doors swung closed, he caught the rattle of a pill bottle. Must have been what the water was for, then. Any body that required more upkeep than just feeding and preening seemed like such a <em>pain</em>, honestly.</p><p>Leaning on the railing like it was a lifeline, Brigid was just barely eye-level with Snatcher; and to her credit, he could at least see her trying not to blurt out the inevitable questions. “So, if Harriet is on the clan records now, are you-”</p><p>“Oh, please. I’m on the records, just not the Fairview ones,” Snatcher snorted, shaking out his feathered ruff. “My- Apolonia Pryce had to start the records fresh, after the migration.”</p><p>“Wait, then-” Brigid’s eyes widened, and she went very, very still. “-Oh. How old <em>are</em> you?”</p><p>“Three hundred and twenty-two.” <em>But who’s counting, eh?</em></p><p><em>“That explains the weird accent,”</em> she muttered under her breath. Larsen relaxed when she realized he wasn’t going to twist her head off for the offense, releasing her vice-grip on the rail. “That’s… old. You’d be on the original clan records, but if-” She stopped, and Snatcher leaned back smugly as the gears turned in her head.</p><p>“Three hundred years…” she muttered, and then glanced up to look him straight in the eyes. <em>Good</em>. “I suppose that’s something to do with the whole-” Brigid flicked her pointer fingers up from the sides of her head, imitating Snatcher’s ear tufts. “-thing. Because as far as I was aware, everyone blood-related to our clan is, well. Human.”</p><p>Snatcher swayed forth, ear-tufts pricked and grin sliding wider, and wider, until it was split at his neck and showing off his not-insignificant amount of teeth. “Are you sure about that, human?”</p><p>Wincing at the smoke from his breath, Larsen still did not waver. “Yes.”</p><p>He threw his head back and cackled like lightning in a storm. Good. <em>Good</em>! There was steel in the clan’s bloodline, dulled as it was by life on the mountains. “How audacious!” He drew a breath. “I <em>used</em> to be human- it was a temporary arrangement, thankfully. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Everyone from your family is descended from my sister.”</p><p>Larsen sighed, visibly shaken by the close encounter. “That… explains some stuff. Is there- is there anyone else who uh. Survived?”</p><p>Ear-tufts pinned and feathers flattened. “No,” he said, twitching his head to where Hattie had scampered up the ramp to listen in by the Time Piece vault.</p><p>“Oh,” Larsen said softly. “And the people that go into the forest…?”</p><p>A fanged smile flashed like a dagger in the dark. “Why, what do you think I ate, all these centuries?”</p><p>“... Ah,” Brigid managed, looking like she swallowed a live eel. “That… makes sense. Yeah.” Turned towards Hattie as the girl padded closer. “I think I would like to go home now. It’s… late.”</p><p>A weak excuse. But one that his little sister didn’t comment on, taking the professor by the hand and dragging her like a broken wheelie toy back to the bedroom telescope. Brigid dug her heels in, whirling around as if she’d forgotten something.</p><p>One rummaged scrap of paper and pen from behind her ear later, she shoved a folded-up note in his direction. “This is my address. You should come by later for an interview- firsthand accounts are too valuable to pass up.”</p><p>Ugh. She was a historian, Snatcher recalled from Hattie’s complaints about Brigid’s class. Still, he took the paper from her shaking hand; it was comically tiny, pinched between his talons. “What, not even going to offer me dinner? I feel used.”</p><p>“Go hunt your own food like a grown-up,” Hattie interjected, breaking the awkward tension even as Brigid’s expression made it very clear she knew <em>exactly</em> what dinner was, now.</p><p>As they passed through the hallway to Hattie’s room, their muttering spun into his open ear-holes.</p><p><em>“He </em>cannot<em> eat my girlfriend or brother.”</em></p><p>
  <em>“Pfft, he’s just pulling your tail. Luka will be fine, and it’s not like Ilah’s ever in the house.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hey, she’s just… nervous around people who can see what she’s really like-”</em>
</p><p>Vision narrowed, Snatcher hunched over like he’d been stabbed, at that name.</p><p>(Names were important, and Apolonia had given his to her entire bloodline.)</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Snatcher is, to his eternal denial and chagrin, a social creature at heart. He /likes/ having people he loves and trusts around. It’s just the ‘loves and trusts’ is the hard part. Anyways hey look at you dude, actually apologizing to somebody even if it’s kind of a backhanded ‘sorry you reacted that way’ rather than a ‘sorry I acted that way’ one. He's a work in progress. Congrats on ur character development, bastard!</p><p>Also, I do think he has some odd form of respect for people who seriously stand up to him- a kind of instinctual re-contexualization from ‘prey’ to ‘weaker peer’. Even the fleeting bravery Brigid showed in pursuit of information is something!</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://banyanas.tumblr.com/tagged/get-along-hat">tumblr</a><br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>oh hey look that excerpt about constellation-stitching in chapter 2 is relevant in this chapter, whaddya know. Literally some of my FAVORITE Alpine Skyline related worldbuilding here, so :3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“I feel the earth calling to me now- I’m old, and creaky, and yet I keep this journal anyway, though I have not touched it for decades, now. I suppose youthful stubbornness follows even the best of us into our old age. And I was certainly never the best of us, though I find myself satisfied. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I find myself surrounded by proof that Subcon lives on in its people, that my clan will continue both in blood and in spirit- all four of my children have since wed, and had children of their own. Griff and his husband most recently finalized the adoption of one of the Capra children orphaned after the last sea-storm from the south threatened to break the mountains’ back. Somehow, I don’t mind cleaning up all the shed fur, and Cato, the old bugger, is already wrapped around their paw.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My blade has drawn the blood of my enemies. My children and grandchildren are prosperous and steel-souled. My clan will live on. And yet there are still regrets. I should have told Mother and Father off before leaving- shown them where their expectations and ambitions cracked our family like frosted iron. I should have written Luka in as the next in line, in the eyes of the forest and the moon, for the position of both Margrave and Clan Head after me, rather than allow him to be used as a pawn. I should have taken my brother with me when I left home. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>But for now, I feel my soul fading from my body- ninety-eight years is a long time to keep a body occupied! My will is written, and my spouse and children and grandchildren will mourn me, but carry the legacy. I could use the rest, anyway- there are no regrets, after death.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>See you on the other side, kid."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-Diary of Apolonia Larsen, Clan Pryce.</em>
</p><p>--</p><p>“See, that wasn’t so bad!” Harriet beamed as Brigid leaned hard against the wall of her home, gratefully inhaling the dry mountain air. </p><p>Brigid had since concluded there was something <em>missing</em> from the kid’s definition of ‘safe’. “Yeah, it kinda was.” She straightened, patting her pockets down for her keys, and made a note to herself to get her refill from the apothecary early- she hadn’t had an anxiety attack that bad in <em>years</em>, and might have overdone it a little. “We’re strangers, and he’s <em>terrifying</em>.”</p><p>
  <em>And I invited him to dinner. Fantastic job there, Brigid- research isn’t worth your life!</em>
</p><p>“Okay, he’s an abrasive jerkwad sometimes,” Harriet admitted. “But clan connections are supposed to be important. And I, uh.” Awkward shuffling, as she kicked a rock down the terrace. “I kinda miss having a lot of extended family around.”</p><p>Brigid hesitantly patted the girl on the back, unsure how to comfort. “You can drop by… pretty much anywhere whenever you like, really- it’s not uncommon for kids to skip around relatives’ places when looking for apprenticeships or something.”</p><p>Harriet looked thoughtful at that, and for a moment Brigid almost pitied whatever relatives she may have foisted such a headstrong kid onto.</p><p>--</p><p>One day after her unscheduled field trip into orbit, Brigid slipped into the clan archives in the Clan Head’s home- what used to be modest centuries ago was now a sprawling building that dug into the mountain, cobbled together with all the extensions added on over the years. And they’d needed those extensions, for all the storage and recordkeeping.</p><p>Brigid, however, wasn’t interested in the archives of marriages or adoptions. She slipped inside the windowless room stacked floor-to-ceiling with funerary plaques. </p><p>Olde Subconites used to bury their dead- feed the earth beneath them, it was said. Burial was difficult to impossible in the wrinkled stone spines of the Alpine mountain range, but carving and keeping burial plaques didn’t require digging a hole into solid stone- wrapped in the deceased’s mantle, carved for remembrance and added to the family records. Runes for protection and peace carved onto the borders of the plaque, and detailing their clan name, parents, and heirs as the runes spiralled inwards. </p><p>Brigid started at the bottom, in the back of the room, a handful of fire lighting her path. She looked for the oldest, the wrapped stone tablets that held the more archaic and difficult-to-read carvings.</p><p>Except… a few didn’t have cloaks wrapped around them at all- just bare granite, still rough around the edges after all these years. She pulled them from the shelf, settling the three unwrapped plaques on the tiny, dust-damp desk in the back of the room. </p><p>Carefully, like they were made of ash, Brigid traced the archaic lettering, shaky runes and chipped letters indicating the carver was inexperienced indeed. </p><p>
  <em>Brina Pryce, Clan Eleftherios- wife of Cassius Pryce, and mother of two heirs. Survived by one heir, Apolonia Pryce. Returned to the earth at age 49.</em>
</p><p><em>Cassius Pryce, Clan Pryce- husband of Brina Pryce, and father of two heirs. Survived by one heir, Apolonia Pryce. Returned to the earth at age 47.</em> </p><p>The last one caught Brigid’s eye, though- the name was familiar, if oddly-written.</p><p>
  <em>Luka Pryce, Clan Pryce- unwed, with no heirs. Survived by elder sibling, Apolonia Pryce. Returned to the earth at age 21.</em>
</p><p>That was the name. Apolonia. Snatcher’s sister. So this was... him. Except he <em>did</em> survive, longer than anyone had the right to. And the carvings themselves…</p><p>A wish for a peaceful end, and a reunion in another life, after so long abandoned. Luka- or Snatcher, rather- had been… young, when Subcon fell. Very young. Brigid wondered <em>how</em> he even survived, because she’d never heard of any kind of curse or geas or transfiguration that would transform an otherwise-normal sapient into something so long-lived, and magically powerful, and… attached with a certain place…</p><p>Like a firework going off at sunset, Brigid remembered the old tales about Alpine Skyline’s discovery by the first Capra- <em>singular</em> Capra- to set hoof on the mountains, followed by the much-later settlement by other goats, and the <em>Bell-</em>!</p><p>It was too tantalizing a connection to ignore. Brigid hastily replaced the plaques to their shelves, and flew through the dusty hallways as she mentally mapped out the fastest way to get to the nearest gondola station.</p><p>Hopefully Sage Maradoth wouldn’t mind her dropping by so suddenly.</p><p>--</p><p>The Alpine Observatory was perhaps Brigid’s favorite place, for the times she visited Fairview’s higher-elevated sister-settlement. </p><p>The enormous dome of the telescope perched almost delicately atop one of the Twilight Peaks, despite its size. The surrounding buildings, curving and swooping like the moon, housed the Twilight Stewards and their apprentices- among them, some of the greatest wind-mages, oral historians, and astro-cartographers in the world. </p><p>Of all of them, Maradoth was the only one Brigid was really familiar with. She shadowed his steps for months, absorbing everything on the Capra’s oral history that she could. But the finer nuances of the Twilight Bell, and the Goat guardian within it, were not her forte. And that was the knowledge she needed, if the frantic spark-wire connections she made were <em>right</em>.</p><p>Though in her enthusiasm, she might’ve slammed the door a <em>little</em> bit, what with how the little Capra fiddling with some spindly brass apparatus glared at her. “Uh, who’re <em>you</em>?” the young goat asked, crossing their arms.</p><p>“I’m with the university- look, is Sage Maradoth around?”</p><p>“And why should I tell <em>you</em>?” They scowled. </p><p>“Because Professor Larsen was a student here, in a way, just as you are.” A rumbling voice from the shadows behind a door, echoed by the ponderous clop of hooves on stone. “But my thanks, for defending my honor, young Zebu. I can take it from here.”</p><p>Zebu’s gaze flicked to the human woman, and back to the enormous Capra that joined them. “... If you say so.” She departed with a look that <em>had</em> to mean ‘<em>I’m keeping an eye on you, so don’t try anything.</em>’</p><p>“Ah, so precocious. Children always are,” Maradoth mused, stroking his beard fondly. “What brings you to my observatory, young lady? I haven’t seen you since your apprenticeship here.”</p><p>Young lady, <em>hah</em>! Only the wizened old goat could get away with calling Brigid that and be right. “Something of a refresher course, you could say. I know we covered the first age of civilization on Alpine Skyline when I shadowed here as a student, but I have some more… technical questions.”</p><p>Maradoth’s bushy brow rose. “Oh? And what kind of technical questions.”</p><p>“About the Twilight Bell. And how the Twilight Goat became what he is.”</p><p>“Hmm.” Maradoth tilted his head to the side, the discipline-mastery bells hanging from his horns jingling. “Now these are questions even the most learned sages do not have concrete answers to- nobody who enters the Bell has ever come back, after all.”</p><p>He sat, cross-legged, and Brigid mirrored him. Seemed like this was gonna be a longer conversation. “But, I shall endeavor to answer your questions- perhaps we can both learn something. Even masters never stop learning.” He nodded to the single bell on her sash- just the one, for knowledge of the Skyline’s historical saga. Shame she’d focused on the history itself, and not the <em>why</em> of some aspects- magic was never her specialty, and magic was ground into the bones of the mountains and the stars above them. </p><p>Brigid gathered her thoughts, carefully. “So, The Twilight Goat arrived some centuries before the rest of the Capra, somehow built the Twilight Bell, and entered it, giving it the light to guide the Capra to the mountains. But how did he do that? What kind of phenomenon can cause that?”</p><p>“Technical questions, indeed,” Maradoth hummed. “You understand nobody but the Twilight Goat himself knows- we mortals on this plane can merely extrapolate.”</p><p>At her nod, he continued. “The oldest of histories, spoken from Capra to Capra for thousands of years, say many things about the Twilight Goat. That he walked for ninety-nine days and nights, and found a crack between worlds atop the mountain peak- between dawn and dusk, zenith and nadir.” Now properly settled into the rhythm of his own adaptation, Maradoth tugged the wind with a crook of his paw, the magic-colored ribbon-breezes illustrating fleeting images of the past. “He meditated on that crack for another ninety-nine nights, until he became one with it. No longer a being meant for this world, he crafted a great Bell out of his starlight, his blood and his fur. Through it he guided the first Capra to the Skyline, tracing a map through the constellations, leading to the last star- the Twilight Bell.”</p><p>“So he… absorbed the crack in the world?” Brigid pounced, feeling much like she’d rattled loose a box of painted puzzle pieces, only just barely seeing where the corners connected. “Did he become a part of this… layer of reality, or did it become a part of him?”</p><p>“Yes, but also no.” Maradoth tapped her head firmly at her resulting scowl. “None of that, Professor. You of all people should know that there are no perfect answers to everything.”</p><p>“Unfortunately,” Brigid agreed, tapping her chin in thought. “So, he’s immortal, he used to be a Capra, and essentially became a part of an… an aspect of the world?” </p><p>Maradoth clapped his paws together, delighted. “Yes, precisely! We do not know much of him- on the rare occasion he influences the world outside his Twilight, it is as if plucking words from the roar of the wind- but there are some things we all know to be true.”</p><p>“...Huh,” Brigid said. The comparisons were beginning to look startlingly accurate. “Are there… other individuals like the Twilight Goat?”</p><p>“Of course there are!” Maradoth chuffed, clearly amused. “Our understanding of it may be finite, but the universe itself is <em>not</em>. Perhaps there are many, perhaps there are a few! All we can do is observe the influences of the ones who live on Earth, or weave through the very reality of our lives.”</p><p>Wait a damn minute. “Ones? <em>Plural</em>?”</p><p>“Oh, that is correct, you never did learn the star-script. Allow me to correct some of this oversight, young miss.” Maradoth swept his arm up and then pulled <em>down</em>, the resulting wind-magic whirling a string of small banners into his grasp. “To say the true names of these forces, both big and small, is impossible- and would also invite their attention, even if we could. The constellation-script is the closest we’ve come to their true names.”</p><p>Brigid lightly traced the star-knots and stitches carefully pulled into each banner- there were some misplaced knots and sloppy tie-offs, so this was likely an apprentice’s work. “Which ones are which?”</p><p>“That one is the Twilight Goat, and as for the rest…” </p><p>Brigid sat still, listening, as Sage Maradoth traced out the titles that were attached to the closest thing to true names such things had. Some were almost too big to fathom- Time, and Death, and Darkness. Others were smaller, and closer to home- easier to comprehend. The Moon. The Twilight. The Blood-Forest.</p><p>“Wait-” Brigid held the constellation script for the Forest closer. “-This one. This is Subcon Forest, yeah?”</p><p>“Indeed, it is the homeland of your people.” Maradoth gently took the tightly-clutched banner in his paws and lowered it. “Though Subcon is what your people called it, most had other names for it. The breath-stealer, the feasting fire, or simply the Forest.” He traced the constellation-lines on the script. “Of course, like all other such powers, its truest name is not known to mortals- but this is close as we can get.”</p><p>It wasn’t exactly <em>conclusive</em>, but… “Can I borrow this?” Brigid held up the small banner with the Forest stitched onto it. </p><p>Sage Maradoth waved her off. “I do not mind, so long as you return it at some point.” He winked. “And come back up and talk to an old goat sometime again, hm? All of my old students are always welcome here.”</p><p>“I don’t know, you seem to be pretty busy with the current round of students…”</p><p>“Oh, nonsense,” Maradoth snorted, hauling himself to his hooves with surprising grace, leaving Brigid to scramble to do the same. “And perhaps I could use some help corralling them, hm?”</p><p>Left awkwardly holding the small banner in her hands, Brigid shifted back and forth. “Eh, I dunno, I’m not good with kids…”</p><p>“And yet you are a teacher.”</p><p>Brigid raised her finger to protest… and then lowered it. “Okay, maybe you have me there.”</p><p>“Of course I do,” Maradoth said, smug. “Now, I can see the itch to leave. Be on your way, and I wish you luck with whatever you seek.”</p><p>--</p><p>Brigid hadn’t had much luck, unfortunately. When researching or theorizing anything about old Subcon Forest, it always came down to the barrier of information- records left to rot in the forest, the vast majority of the population slain, landmarks and buildings and books destroyed- and nobody could even scour the ruins without vanishing into the forest. Without getting <em>eaten</em> by Snatcher, apparently.</p><p>So, in the monotony of work, she stuffed the Forest-embroidered banner into a drawer in her lecture hall and half-forgot about it.</p><p>She was reminded of it, quite suddenly, when her usual little class-thief sneaked in with a shadow in her wake, months after her last encounter with the… alien. </p><p>Next to Harriet, sitting casually with their back to the wall, was someone else- lanky, obscured by a purple-and-yellow Subconite mantle and robes that wouldn’t have looked out of place centuries ago. Brigid couldn’t even see anything below the cowl besides a pair of glowing yellow eyes- not uncommon, as both Capra and crows’ eyes could appear to glow under enough darkness. </p><p>Still, their presence, their attention, was unnerving to the point where dismissing class was an unparalleled <em>relief</em>. </p><p>As everyone else filtered out, Harriet and her shadow remained at the back. Watching. Once everyone left… Harriet approaching Brigid to pester her after the lecture was over was routine, but her companion made every hair on the back of Brigid’s neck stand at attention. </p><p>They seemed to glide like a snake down the steps, the edges of their skirt barely brushing the ground. They stalked closer, and something in Brigid’s blood whispered at her to <em>run-</em></p><p>“You got some things wrong, y’know. About the last Queen’s death.”</p><p>-And it was just her… far-removed uncle. Spirits beyond, it was still weird to even <em>think</em> about. “And do you plan to ever inform me of what really happened?” She <em>had</em> given him her address for a possible interview, so maybe…</p><p>“No,” Snatcher said, impossibly smug. And it had to be him- the pair of fangs on his formless mouth almost looked like a beak, and his eyes were yellow fire.</p><p>Or maybe not. </p><p>Harriet rolled her eyes. “Ugh, you’re the worst. What if <em>I</em> decide to tell her?” Harriet tilted her head to the side owlishly, almost disturbingly reminiscent of her brother. “I <em>was</em> the one who-”</p><p>The alien child sputtered as a feathery hand stopped her next words from escaping. “Hey, no spilling secrets to- <em>augh</em>!” Snatcher’s shree was ear-piercing enough that Brigid cringed. “Don’t <em>lick</em> my hand!”</p><p>“<em>Pah</em>!” Harriet spat out a downy black feather. “That’s your own fault, birdbrain.”</p><p>“No arguing in the lecture hall,” Brigid corrected on instinct. “Look, did you really come here to sit through the entire class just to tell me I’m wrong?”</p><p>“Yes.” Absolutely <em>insufferable</em>.</p><p>“Fantastic. Your help has been noted,” Brigid grumbled. And then remembered something that had been gathering dust, both in her mind and in her drawer. “Actually, I just need some confirmation on one thing to, ah, help with some theories I’ve been talking about with one of the Twilight Stewards.”</p><p>As she rummaged among her desk drawers, Brigid kept one eye on the pair of classroom intruders, and noted that beneath his hood, Snatcher’s ear-tufts were perked up, curious despite his recalcitrance. <em>Gotcha</em>. </p><p>“This was from one of the sages, and it came up when we were talking about… a theory I had. Does it mean anything to you?” Brigid unfolded the banner with the Forest’s constellation-script embroidered onto it, and held it up for Harriet and Snatcher to view. </p><p>“<em>Duh</em>, of course it does,” Snatcher snorted, talon-points catching on the fabric as he held its corner up to a critical eye. “Though I gotta ask, why did some old goat stitch my name into a banner? Kinda weird.”</p><p><em>Um</em>, Brigid thought dumbly. She had thought that Olde Subcon used some similar method to refer to the forest, or perhaps Snatcher had piggybacked onto Subcon Forest to survive for centuries beyond what a normal human would. But if he was reading the script for the Forest itself as his <em>name…</em></p><p>“<em>To say the true names of these forces, both big and small, is impossible- and would also invite their attention, even if we could,</em>” Brigid recalled Sage Maradoth’s words, and his implications- that attracting the attention of such things was <em>dangerous</em>. </p><p>Well. Too late now. Brigid gulped, mouth suddenly dry, as Harriet looked at Snatcher like he’d regurgitated a live eel. “Uh, Snatcher? It doesn’t say your name.”</p><p>“What? I thought your weird hat-magic translated written words too.” He pointed to the banner, talon jabbing into the fabric and sending Brigid skipping back a step- just in case. “See, it says… <em>oh</em>,” Snatcher realized. </p><p>“Oh,” Brigid breathed in realization, thoughts tumbling down the precipice. “You’re like the Twilight Goat.”</p><p>Snatcher snarled like rippling lava. “I am not like that- that dissociated, passive <em>scavenger</em>.”</p><p><em>… When did I even move back?</em> Brigid thought to herself as the back of her legs bumped against her desk. “I- not like- like him as a person. His- the Twilight Goat’s structure, and his connection to something else, turned into something different from what he was before…” she trailed off.</p><p>Snatcher looked like she’d slapped him with a salmon. Harriet, for her part, only whistled lowly, eyes wide. “Wow, you caught on <em>fast</em>. How much do these goat sages know about Beings?”</p><p>Before Brigid could get a word edgewise, Harriet whirled around to face her brother. “Do you know what this means? Terran people figured out Beings before any outside contact with the rest of the world!” Frantically gestured towards where the banner was clutched, crumpled, in Brigid’s hands. “They even figured out how to write down their <em>actual names</em>, if you can read it like that!”</p><p>Suddenly Brigid was faced with shining blue eyes as Harriet made a grab for the banner. “Are there more like this besides for the Subcon Being? Can you show me? Can they be spoken?”</p><p>Bridid let go of the banner, leaving it in the girl’s arms and freeing up her own to hold her hands up in surrender. “Whoah, <em>whoah</em>, kiddo, slow <em>down</em>. I only got this from Sage Maradoth- he’s a Twilight Steward, up in the peaks.” So many things Harriet said crowded for Brigid’s attention, and yet one of them sounded like a name, or a title… “But first, what’s a Being?” </p><p>Harriet and Snatcher exchanged a look, and a wordless conversation. “You… might want to sit down for this.”</p><p>“So, across the universe, sometimes a place or phenomenon is not <em>just</em> a place…”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hattie is a smart kid. She has good reasons to want to know about how much Earth knows about Beings (ESPECIALLY since she knows about the proclivities of her home planet), and particularly if they can use the names to get their attention. She’s thinking about both the past and future with this ;)</p><p>(BTW the thing she was about to spill to Brigid was that she was the one who killed the queen, kind of. It was a team effort of her soul and Snatcher’s unoccupied body)</p><p>Aaand that’s a wrap! Hope y’all enjoyed Brigid, and some worldbuilding, and some very tenuous beginnings of reconnection. See you for the last entry after the 2 year timeskip!</p><p>As always, since this is the last chapter and if you enjoyed, please leave a comment and or kudos! </p><p>  <a href="https://banyanas.tumblr.com/tagged/get-along-hat">tumblr</a><br/></p>
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